


Intermission

by angrytourist



Series: complex anatomy [5]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrytourist/pseuds/angrytourist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Doves,” Tsukiyama said. “They were behind us.”</p>
<p>“And you just <i>ran</i>?” They were so screwed.</p>
<p>“They weren’t following us,” Tsukiyama replied. “They were following the ghoul that was following us.”</p>
<p>That shut Kaneki up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to everyone who read/commented/left kudos. You guys are all fantastic.

The wound took a full day to heal. Tsukiyama pressed him to eat more, but Kaneki wouldn’t. Eating beyond what was necessary for survival felt wrong. The way Tsukiyama indulged in human meat wasn’t something he could do. Just thinking about it left him heavy with second-hand guilt, like he’d personally butchered the people and spoon-fed their remains to Tsukiyama.

What a thought.

But the second day dawned with a completely new patch of skin, smooth save for an interesting looking scar. Kaneki half-expected to see an outline of Tsukiyama’s teeth, but it was more of a jagged semi-circle. When Tsukiyama saw it, he admired the mark.

“Like a brand,” he’d said, pleased. Kaneki wanted to hit him.

He fled to the bathroom after that - Tsukiyama’s. He’d been more or less trapped in the master suite while he healed, Tsukiyama flitting about like a deranged housewife, offering him anything he thought he might need.

The mirror stretched across one full wall, ceiling to floor. Kaneki could see himself from anywhere in the bathroom. “Typical,” he muttered, taking a better look at the scar. It cut across the one Nishio left him. Just looking at it caused an echo of pain to lance through his side. Tsukiyama hadn’t lied about it hurting, though for some reason, Kaneki hadn’t expected it to be like that. 

Though Tsukiyama claimed to have wiped him down - while he was sleeping - there was still blood caked across his abdomen. He stank of it and stale sweat. 

Kaneki relieved himself, flushing the toilet with his foot and casting wary glances at the door before starting the shower and stripping. He’d locked it, of course, but Tsukiyama was sneaky. He was probably sitting outside the bathroom.

Kaneki showered fast.

Tsukiyama wasn’t in the bedroom when he came out, but there was a stack of neatly folded clothes on the edge of the bed, obviously meant for him. The size was closer this time, meaning Tsukiyama actually went shopping for him. The jeans were unmentionably tight and ended midcalf, and the shirt was white with quarter length sleeves and a soft gray vest stitched onto it. 

He looked ridiculous and would have gladly put on the last set Tsukiyama gave him, but those were nowhere to be found.

Kaneki left the master suite and went straight to the living room, but Tsukiyama wasn’t there, nor was he in the kitchen. Kaneki hadn’t explored the house well enough to guess where he might be. It was a one level house, spacious but not too large. The sitting room and the kitchen were at the front of the house, and the bedrooms down a long hall. Kaneki was about to go searching for his cell phone, spooked at being left alone unexpectedly, when Tsukiyama came walking out of a door he’d assumed was a closet.

“There you are, Kaneki-kun. I see the new clothes fit you better.” Tsukiyama drank in the sight of him, the look in his eyes uncomfortably close to the one he’d worn the night he’d tasted Kaneki. “ _Bellissimo_!”

Kaneki crossed his arms. “Where does that go?” He nodded at the door.

“An old family secret,” Tsukiyama said, reopening the door. “Come, this is where you’ll learn control.”

Images of a horror movie-esque dungeon sprang up in Kaneki’s mind. He was probably taking him down there to do unspeakable things. “Are you sure?” Kaneki asked, suspicious. “I’m not sure I want to go down there.”

“I won’t have you destroying my house when you lose control.” Tsukiyama gestured down the stairs inside the doorway. “Shall we?”

“You dressed me like this so we could _train_?” Kaneki gaped at him.

This time, Tsukiyama _did_ roll his eyes. “You should always look beautiful,” he said, grabbing Kaneki by the shoulder and steering him down the stairs, “threats of physical damage be damned.”

xxx

Kaneki expected a basement, maybe something like an underground tennis court he’d once read an article on. The stairs led to an old cement hall with candle holders fixed on the walls. They were all lit, likely from Tsukiyama’s previous trip down. A thick metal door was at the end, the type used in warehouses. Tsukiyama led the way, sliding the door open and making a pained expression at the screeching sound that echoed into the huge open area beyond it. “I’ll have to oil that,” he muttered. Then, “This leads to a tunnel system created by ghouls several generations back. My family had a large part in its funding.” He turned to look at Kaneki. “The entire system extends further than just the wards-- _all_ of the wards. If you tried to navigate it alone, you’d probably die lost.”

The message was clear: _you won’t escape me through here_.

Kaneki chose not to address that. “So you’re going to teach me…?” He didn’t know what to expect, his nerves a trembling mess. 

“There are different categories of kagune. Before I can teach you, I have to see yours for myself.”

“How do I,” Kaneki hesitated, “do it? I didn’t mean to last time. It just… happened.”

“It was triggered by the situation.” Tsukiyama shrugged. “A novice’s mistake.” Kaneki bristled at his tone. “But we’ll take a similar route.”

That sounded like a terrible idea. “What do you mean?”

“In the state you were in, you used your kagune because you were in a starved frenzy. Sort of like an adrenalin rush, _non_? I’ll trigger that in you another way.”

“What way?” Anxiety mounting, Kaneki found himself trying to back away towards the door.

“Danger,” Tsukiyama said as he raised his arm. His kagune circled up and around it, forming a spiral lance. It moved smoothly, like water, the deep purple of it hypnotizing. 

Kaneki barely managed to tear his eyes from it before Tsukiyama was in his face, the tip of his kagune slicing his cheek as he dove to avoid it.

“Stop!” Kaneki cried, scrambling away. “I can’t fight!” 

“You will or you’ll die.” Tsukiyama moved so _fast_. How was Kaneki supposed to counter? He took to his feet again, running blindly. 

But Tsukiyama was a step ahead of him, sweeping his feet out from under him. He reared back, the lance narrowing and lining up with Kaneki’s right eye--

The explosive thrust from his own kagune caught him off guard. Tsukiyama went flying backwards, and Kaneki, rather than landing on his feet, went face-first into the cement. When he pulled himself up, his kagune swaying behind and around him, Tsukiyama was already back on his feet, watching.

“Red,” Tsukiyama said, “and a rinkaku, is it? Just like her. Makes sense.” 

“Just like--Rize?” Had her kagune been the same? Kaneki recalled the red, but of that night what he remembered the most was her eyes, the deranged glint of them as she stalked after him.

“It makes sense,” Tsukiyama repeated. “And you _do_ recover quickly, even by ghoul standards. Faster, still, if you’d eat more.”

His kagune retracted, and Kaneki noted with no small amount of shock that his did as well, almost in response to the threat leaving. It felt cold and fluid like, winding its way back into his body.

“Is--is that it?” Kaneki felt worn down, and they’d not been at it for ten minutes. 

“Of course not. Catch your breath.” Tsukiyama’s kagune wrapped around his other arm this time, assuming no specific shape. “Can you withdraw it yet?”

Kaneki really didn’t know how to go about it. He tried remember how it felt but to no avail. 

“Then we’ll start again.” Before Kaneki could protest, Tsukiyama charged. 

Throwing himself out of the way, Kaneki wanted to cry. It was going to be a hellishly long day.

xxx

The first day, Tsukiyama had to drag him back to the house and force fed him. The second and third were much the same, but on the fourth day Kaneki managed to fully control his kagune for the first time and limped up the stairs himself. It felt good. So good that he didn’t even mind Tsukiyama patting his shoulder and leaning in close to smell him. Mostly.

“Eat and then clean up,” Tsukiyama instructed. “I’ll be taking your measurements tonight.” 

The sight of their ‘dinner’ unnerved Kaneki. It looked normal enough, various skewers and even burger-styled patties, but knowing what they actually were made the normal appearance even worse. 

“Measurements for what?” he asked, eyeballing their meal with distaste. He wasn’t willing to admit, not even to himself, how appetizing the smell was.

“Clothes, mostly,” Tsukiyama said, folding a napkin daintily in his lap. “And your mask.”

“Mask,” Kaneki repeated. “Like yours? What do I need that for?” Frankly, Tsukiyama’s mask looked ridiculous. He didn’t want to wear anything like that. The clothes were bad enough.

“The mask is for hunting,” Tsukiyama said, then took a bite off a skewer. “It keeps the doves from seeing your face.” It went without saying that a ghoul’s life was over once a dove identified them.

“Who makes them?” Kaneki asked.

“There’s several mask makers. One is stationed in this ward, but he’s hardly fit for commoners.” Tsukiyama’s lip curled, then his expression smoothed. “My family has a quality mask maker we’ve all used. I’ll send the measurements to him.” Then, “You must not leave until the mask arrives. And this--” He held up Kaneki’s cell phone.

“I’ve been looking for that!” Kaneki jumped to his feet. The phone looked dead, but he could already imagine how many times Hide had tried calling.

Tsukiyama smiled and then crushed it in his fist, plastic pieces littering the table and floor. “Any communication with the outside world,” he said pleasantly, “isn’t allowed until you have full control over yourself. Consider it an incentive.”

Kaneki stared at the remains in disbelief. Tsukiyama carried on eating like nothing happened.

They finished the meal in silence. Kaneki left to shower, thankful to get the sweat, grime, and blood off his body. He soaked in the tub after, his aching body finally starting to relax in the hot water. He felt better than he had in a long while which was reason enough not to go see Tsukiyama. But the idea of the mask was intriguing. He’d figured it was just another of Tsukiyama’s eccentricities, but the more he learned the more he realized how established ghoul culture really was. The CCG made them out to be mindless monsters, and while Kaneki couldn’t say the ghoul’s he’d met weren’t monsters, they certainly weren’t mindless.

If anything, Rize and Tsukiyama were too smart.

Tsukiyama was waiting for him in the hall. Kaneki didn’t bother pretending that didn’t irritate him. “Let’s get it over with,” he said shortly, every last ounce of relaxation fleeing him. 

Having his measurements taken was awkward. He stood in nothing but borrowed boxes while Tsukiyama ran a measuring tape all over him. The entire time he was in Tsukiyama’s bedroom, he couldn’t look away from the bed. Apparently the scent thing hadn’t been a joke because the bedsheets hadn’t been changed from the night he let Tsukiyama eat part of him.

When Tsukiyama was done, Kaneki couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

xxx

Tsukiyama presented him with the mask three days later. He made a spectacle of it, handing it over in an ornate wooden box with velvet trim. “I had it designed specifically for you,” he said.

Kaneki opened the box. He looked inside at the mask for a moment, eyebrows inching up. “It looks like yours.”

“Of course! We’re a matching set now.” Tsukiyama preened.

The mask looked like the mirror image of Tsukiyama’s: the white oval side would cover his human eye and leave his ghoul side exposed. The mouth, eerie and smiling, was lined in purple rather than red like Tsukiyama’s.

In short, it looked like a couple’s set.

“I’m not wearing this.” Kaneki closed the box. “Send it back.”

“What do you mean ‘ _send it back_ ’?” Tsukiyama looked at him aghast. “This mask is of the highest quality, made of the finest materials!”

“I’m not going to be some--” Kaneki made a frustrated sound, “some pet that you can dress up! The clothes are bad enough!”

“I chose those!” Tsukiyama’s voice cracked, distressed. 

It struck Kaneki that Tsukiyama wasn’t lying to him. He honest to god thought he was giving Kaneki some great honor by treating him like a doll or a pet. The discontent he was showing - it was _real_.

Tsukiyama was more twisted than he’d originally suspected.

Kaneki sighed and opened the box again. He needed to choose his battles, and the mask, ridiculous though it was, wasn’t nearly as important as other things might be. “Fine. I’ll wear it. Just…” What? Stop whining, stop looking like that? Tsukiyama was a hopeless case.

Abruptly, he began to smile. “I knew you’d come around! It’s fantastic, is it not? _Merveilleux_! What a debut you’ll make!”

Kaneki had picked the mask up, angling it in his hands and wondering if he’d look as much like a clown as he suspected in it. He paused. “Debut?”

But Tsukiyama didn’t notice his trepidation, waxing poetic about their plans for the evening in his mind, if his dreamy expression was anything to go by. “Hunting! We’ll go together. I’ll show you how--”

“I’m not hungry!” Kaneki put down the mask. “I _just_ ate!”

“Waiting until you’re hungry will only exacerbate your already poor control. We go tonight.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Tsukiyama had a point. Kaneki could still remember how powerless he’d felt that night. He never wanted to feel that way again, to return to his senses over a half-eaten corpse. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Tonight,” he echoed, feeling every bit as hollow as he sounded. Kaneki would learn what Tsukiyama wanted to teach, if only to know what _not_ to do.

xxx

They didn’t wear the masks. They dressed casually in dark clothing, blacks and grays, and Tsukiyama kept the masks in his coat. They looked like friends from university heading to dinner or a club or something else normal and human.

Tsukiyama lectured the entire way. Kaneki suspected he might have done so with or without an audience.

“What you want,” he was saying, “is someone with an exceptional asset, something that ignites your appetite!” He quickly warmed to the topic, growing louder and having to regularly reign himself in. 

“So I should eat people I find attractive?” That explained so much about Tsukiyama.

“Not necessarily. I once met a man who jogged every morning past my home. He had fantastic calves.” Tsukiyama paused, looking wistful. “But it had nothing to do with attraction.”

Right, totally. Nothing do with attraction at all.

“The appetite is something completely disconnected from the libido, after all,” Tsukiyama carried on.

“Are you serious?” Kaneki couldn’t believe him. 

“I’m always serious about dining,” Tsukiyma said gravely. Kaneki suspected, not for the first time, that he was just completely out of his mind. Or else only wanted to hear his own voice, paying little mind to what he actually said.

He looked like he was going to continue, but then his mouth snapped shut. Tsukiyama gabbed Kaneki’s wrist, dragging him down the road until they reached a gap between a restaurant and a twenty-four hour market. They stopped just inside the alley, and Tsukiyama handed Kaneki his mask.

“Hurry,” he said, voice hushed.

“You found someone you want?” Kaneki hadn’t seen anyone. The streets were fairly empty, as they usually were past ten this close to the residential district.

“Doves,” Tsukiyama said. “They were behind us.”

“And you just _ran_?” They were so screwed.

“They weren’t following us,” Tsukiyama replied. “They were following the ghoul that was following us.”

That shut Kaneki up. “Someone was following us?”

“Always be aware of your surroundings,” Tsukiyama said, distracted. “They’ll be… Ah, this way.” He pulled Kaneki further down the back road, then took a right at the first available opening. “You wanted to know more about them, yes?”

“About the doves? I, well, yeah.” It seemed like something he should know.

“Prepare to learn, then.” Tsukiyama didn’t look amused. He looked--blank, was the only word Kaneki could think of. Like Tsukiyama had intentionally wiped his face clean of every trace of emotion. Then he put on his mask, nodding at the one in Kaneki’s hand so he would do the same.

He might have protested again, but instinct told him this was neither the time nor the place. Kaneki put on the mask and leaned back against the wall, mimicking Tsukiyama. 

There was a dumpster across from them. Around the corner immediately next to Tsukiyama, raised voices and the sound of fighting could be heard. A loud crashing sound signaled the end of whatever physical conflict was taking place. There was silence, and then a voice rose, louder than before, pleading.

“I don’t hunt,” it was saying. “I’ve never killed anyone!”

“You’ve got meat on you,” a deep voice replied, no-nonsense. “You expect us to believe that?”

Another sound, like something heavy hitting flesh. Kaneki winced at the answering wail. Tsukiyama didn’t move or react at all.

“He doesn’t have anything for us,” a second voice spoke up. “Get rid of him. We’ll head to the second target.” He spoke of the ghoul they were attacking like a mad dog needing to be put down.

The ghoul began to stutter and sob. Kaneki could hear him trying to escape, a strange shuffling movement dragging across the ground, like his legs wouldn’t work. Kaneki covered his ears, not wanting to hear the ghoul die, but Tsukiyama grabbed his wrist, forcing his arm down. 

“You wanted to know,” he mouthed. “Listen.”

One of the doves struck, that same heavy sound. The ghoul shrieked, falling silent upon impact. 

“Let’s go,” the deeper voice said. “He’s dead.” Two pairs of feet walked off, casual and uncaring.

Kaneki’s vision blurred. He knew logically that he was about to cry, but a cynical part of him wondered why he would feel sorrow over a ghoul. 

As Tsukiyama pushed him away from the wall, declaring that they were done for the night, Kaneki found himself unable to find an answer.

xxx

It was only after they were home, Kaneki nursing a cup of coffee and Tsukiyama fiddling with the machine and muttering about cheap workmanship, that he recalled the ghoul’s claim.

“The ghoul,” Kaneki started, “the one the doves killed.” He managed not to stutter the word, despite the way it made his stomach bottom out. “He said he didn’t kill.”

Tsukiyama, distracted, shrugged. “He probably bought his meat. Or he took handouts.”

“You can do that?” Hope welled in Kaneki, the dying spark of it revived. “I could buy it?” The thought of never having to hunt - never having to _kill_ \- made having to eat humans at all a much more bearable idea. 

Tsukiyama went rigid. He turned around and laughed, though it sounded oddly forced. “You _could_ ,” he said, “if you were very wealthy. It’s all a scam, selling meat. I remember hearing about one ghoul making a fortune selling raw pork in ward six a few years back.”

“But you said something about handouts, too,” Kaneki persisted.

“Within a family,” Tsukiyama was quick to correct. “Usually in families, only one of the ghouls hunt to provide for the rest.” 

Kaneki slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe I could--”

“You thought wrong,” Tsukiyama said. Then, as if realizing how harsh he sounded, “But that’s understandable, of course. _Non_ , I would be more surprised if you went from a human to a ghoul who could easily kill humans!” Again, forced laughter. “I apologize for giving you false hope, Kaneki-kun.” he walked over to the table, laying a hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. Rather than a squeeze, it felt like he was being caressed. “It’s been a long day. For now, _bonne nuit_. Tomorrow will be better.”

xxx

Tsukiyama was gone when Kaneki woke the next morning. The door to the tunnels was locked and a note was pinned to it.

_Business to attend to. Will return tonight._

It was short and to the point - out of character for Tsukiyama. Kaneki felt like something was wrong, but he didn’t know what

The sense of unease never went away. Kaneki tried to distract himself, to put it out of mind, but nothing he did seemed to help. He watched the television in Tsukiyama’s room, eventually giving in and sticking to the local news channel, though he wasn’t quite willing to admit his paranoia drove him to do so.

In the late afternoon, as he sat cocooned in blankets at the foot of Tsukiyama’s bed, a familiar story caught his eye. It was about the child ghoul, the little girl, and her savior, Rabbit.

The girl was in custody, the anchorman said, triumphant. Rabbit had escaped, though the CCG reported that he’d been severely injured. A search was ongoing. First Class Investigator Mado was injured in the line of duty but stable. Second Class Amon would be delivering a statement to the press later that evening.

Kaneki turned off the television.

He thought of the ghoul he’d heard die in the alley, of the little girl whose only crime was being born. Anger followed it, sudden and surprising and deep.

He left Tsukiyama’s room and returned to his own, trying and failing to sleep, plagued with doubts about everything he’d thought he’d known.


End file.
